


Laughter

by oninoshirosaki



Series: Love Is... [26]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oninoshirosaki/pseuds/oninoshirosaki





	Laughter

This is what life looks like.

It's a dossier - sometimes an email, sometimes a phone call, sometimes a picture - imparted; Tsuna's lips forming around an order that's long since been tattooed onto your brain, _"Do not kill unless it's absolutely necessary."_

It's their eyes - because you _always_ look at their eyes first - and the terror that skates through them when the tip of your blade pierces through their flesh, gleaming moonlight upon metal, before it exits through the other side. 

Sometimes, it dances across their throats - quick like lightning - and their mouths part in shock; the pain doesn't reach them till after they're dead. 

It's the showers of blood and viscera you've been trained to avoid - you prefer _not_ to, fucking gets you off better this way - warm and sticky and seeping into the black, black earth.

It's watching the light go out in their eyes - and you feel like Hakushaku in the great Hall of Candles, snuffing out the brightly burning flames one by one - and knowing _you're_ the cause; _you're_ the reason they'll never see their families again, the reason they'll join their _Families_ in Hell.

\--

This is what life sounds like.

It's your heartbeat pounding out a crazy, empowering rhythm in anticipation of the impending slaughter.

It's your footsteps - sometimes barely audible, sometimes thundering against the ground - when you hunt, all sharp blades and raw instinct.

It's the deafening roar of blood in your ears, the wind howling through your hair like cruel, manic laughter somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind.

It's the swish of your blade when it sings through air and water, the beautifully disgusting squelch when it slides into warm flesh and cartilage and vein, the sweetly sickening crunch of metal scraping brutally against bone.

Sometimes, they scream, plead for mercy. You like it best when they're mad - lips twisted into enraged snarls, raining scathing imprecations down upon you, profound hatred burning in their eyes - cause it isn't _fun_ if it isn't a _challenge._

And it's their startled gasps - the very last breaths you pull from them - the moment you tear through their flesh like a starving wolf tearing through the hide of a dying rabbit. 

\--

This is what life smells like.

It's the wild stench of bloodlust - ravenous and unrestrained - clinging to the air, filling your nostrils like it's trying to drown you from the inside out.

It's _fear_ \- bone-deep and thick and cloying, like the choking tension in the atmosphere - punctuated by the scent of bitter copper and gleaming steel.

It's the pungent musk of sweat that easily rolls down your back like water over polished marble, mingled with the rain and the unforgiving, all-consuming flood you call upon at will.

It reeks of revenge - the kind they swear upon you and your family and your _Family_ should they survive this. It's a good thing too, makes you feel _that_ much better about annihilating them.

It smells like duty and honor when you cleanse, when you carve and melt the despicable flesh off their rotten bones.

\--

This is what life tastes like.

The lie on your tongue when you promise Tsuna you'll try not to kill, and when you tell him it was absolutely _necessary_ that you _did._

It's _Squalo_ when you slam him against the wall and fuck him so hard he can't remember his own name (but it's okay, cause all that matters is he remembers _yours_ ), rapidly cooling corpses littered at your feet.

It tastes like guilt and triumph and resolve that will never wither, a flame that could never be put out. 

\--

This is what life feels like.

It's the sting of the wailing wind against your cheek, the pulsing adrenaline and indescribable thrill surging madly through your veins, better than any orgasm.

It's the feel of Shigure Kintoki in your hand - light and familiar in your grasp - and the alluring drops of crimson speckled upon its blade.

Sometimes, it's your fist connecting with their jaws, the satisfying crunch of bone breaking beneath, the shape of your ring printed upon their skin.

It's the blood that's crusting your lip - soaking into your hair, your suit - and the knowledge that none of it's _yours._

It's the absolute control over the lives of others, and knowing that every life obliterated means the people you love are _that_ much safer.

It's the rush of inextinguishable power, the mirth which dances frenetically in your beer-colored eyes despite lips unmoving, the silent laughter that comes with this sublime awareness.

For every life you take, you are - again and again - _reborn._


End file.
